


The Long Awaited Dance

by Sparcina



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Nine oh Nine..., Post-Season/Series 02 AU, Powerful Rose, Rough kissing against a wall, Sex in the console room (where else?), Suicidal Thoughts, The Doctor loves Rose, The Doctor seduces Bad Wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3736591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparcina/pseuds/Sparcina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor had left Rose after the battle at Canary Wharf. She doesn't know why and it doesn't matter: she is falling apart, dying of a loss more vital than that of her own heart. Death sounds like a good plan, but then Jack sends her back to Nine, and oh he knows, doesn't he, and the TARDIS and Rose have some unfinished business...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lastincurableromantic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastincurableromantic/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I miss Nine (and Ten, but that's irrelevant). This fic is decicated to lastincurableromantic, the amazing writer of Doctor Who's fics The Choice and The Slow Path. 

Everything had changed after the battle at Canary Wharf.

Rose knew that the Doctor hadn't simply vanished; he was somewhere in time and space, in her universe, just... not with her. Of course, he could be dead, dead as in out of regenerations, but she didn't want to consider this particular turn of events.

She felt dead. She still ate and slept, but she did it like an automaton, more cyber than human. She couldn't remember the last time she had so little enthusiastic about her everyday life. It was much, much worse than her time as a shop assistant at Henrik's, because it wasn't merely about boredom any more, albeit dullness contributed to her state.

She simply didn't want to go on anymore. If she had been left to her own devices, no doubt she would have begun to write the last page of her book—jumping from a cliff and going for an overdose of medications both appealed to her fragmented spirit—but one month of sheer idleness had frightened Jackie enough to take action.

"I've called Mickey," she said in a low voice in the doorway of Rose's room, concern written all over her face. "He's gonna take you out."

Rose had just looked at her. Looked at her, without seeing her. Mickey had gotten the same reaction, but unlike Jackie, he had dealt with strangers things, although not this nerve-racking version of a rose.

They had gone to Rose's favorite restaurant. Mickey had ordered all kinds of chips, hoping to get to her through her stomach, but Rose hadn't even looked at the food.

"Rose?"

She was fixing the window. She hadn't looked at anything else for the last two hours, but then what could possibly have held her attention? The Doctor was gone.

Gone.

That word… The extreme sensation of pain it engendered poured a fresh layer of salt on her ever-bleeding wound in shape of a heart. Breathing became painful. It was a torture to see, a torture, simply, to be. She may not have met Shakespeare, but she knew the answer to his famous question. The only unknown variable was the exact mean to turn the positive into negative. Life into death. She acknowledged it had been now thirty-two days, eight hours and thirty-six minutes since she had last saw him—that was the only thing his departure had brought her: a better sense of time. She moaned softly. Why was it so bright?

"Rose?"

Mickey sounded like he had called her name more than once. Rose managed to turn her head in his direction. Slowly. Unwillingly.

"Wha'?"

It was the first word she had uttered in days. Mickey's expression grew resolved.

"I'm not having you in this state another hour, Rose, d'you hear me? I wont-"

Loose you. He didn't need to say it. Rose stayed still as he rose and strode to an empty spot a few tables away. She could have tried to read his lips, but she really just didn't care.

"Rose, look at me."

The eyes rising belonged to a ghost.

"You will get better. We will help you," Mickey promised.

So many words, so little sense. She almost smiled.

**OoO**

Jack Harkness was a very patient man. Rose had suspected it before, but it wasn't until her fifth meeting with the ex con man that she had fully understood.

The first time they had met after Canary Wharf, it had been at Mickey's insistence, over the reliefs of their **—** his **—** greasy chips.

"Hello Rose."

That was the only thing he had said this day.

The next time had been in Cardiff, or rather, all the way from the Peckham to Cardiff and back again. All those hours spent walking on the streets, sitting in various trains, and waiting for buses, all those hours filled possibilities, and Jack hadn't said a word, mirroring Rose's silence. They hadn't eaten anything either, even though Jack's stomach had growled at least twice.

Their third meeting had taken place in Cardiff as well, right over the Rift. They had sat there the whole afternoon and part of the night, too. Again, they hadn't talked, and Jack's only acknowledgement of her physical existence had been to put his coat on her shoulders at midnight. Cold. She had been so cold and hadn't even noticed.

"Hello, Jack."

On their fourth meeting, Rose had found the words. They were trivial words, a salutation as they were millions on this Earth, but Jack had grinned so completely that she might as well have granted all of his wishes.

"It's good to see you, Rose."

A very weak smile had graced her lips. When the moon had given way to the sun, it dawned on her that Jack was suffering as well. The Doctor's absence was torturing them both.

For their fifth meeting, Jack invited her to a bar called Back Volt. Rose accepted to eat an apple in exchange for a drink **—** any compromise to dull her burning pain. She asked a whisky and received a screwdriver.

Not his screwdriver, of course, but a screwdriver nonetheless. She froze. Jack froze. The dam of silence broke, and the creaked voice of a little girl burned off her throat.

"Why did he abandon me, Jack?"

Her tongue tasted like blood. To bring to life the words she had continuously contemplated in the darkest corners of her mind—the same abysses rotting with suicidal thoughts—, to give them a finality, a definite tangibility, gave her the excruciating impression a knife had been struck in her chest and then broke to a million shards on the way to her heart, filling every single blood vessel, cell, with the poison of mourning.

Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. She couldn't stop them and didn't try to, letting the confession mingle with her mascara on her cheeks.

Jack looked as though he was on the verge of crying himself. Eyes wide and lips reduced to a thin line, he pulled her in his arms and hugged her tight. He was strong. It hurt and felt wonderful. Her tears felt hot and burning against his cold throat.

"I don't know... what to do... Jack," she rasped, clinging at the long coat's lapels with enough energy to tear the fabric to pieces. "I don't... want to...

"Shh... Oh, Rose... I'm here, I know..."

And he knew, that was true. Rose cried harder as she remembered the kiss Jack had given her and the Doctor on Satellite 5. How much love he carried for them both. She cried and cried, revisiting every face, single expression of the Doctor, each of the words, his words, carefully filled away. Jack's finger brushed her wet cheek.

"I don't... want to... anymore..." She didn't care if the words made sense.

But Jack understood anyway. He cupped her chin and peered at her with the most serious eyes she had ever seen on this face.

"Rose... Have you thought about killing yourself?"

Her silence was admittance. Jack shivered and held her tighter.

"I can't let you do that, Rose," he whispered in a tight voice, "you know I can't."

He didn't say the obvious: that her mom would be devastated, that Mickey would blame himself and that he, Jack, would have to live with this burden for the best part of eternity. Rose still heard the words, and her body went limp in Jack's arms.

That was when the song started. An electronic beat meant for melancholy hooked her, and the deep masculine voice jolted her out of her trance.

Ab und zu kommt es vor / Now and then it happens

Dass es irgend etwas gibt / That there's something

Was dich nach unten zieht / Which undermines you

Rose knew the language wasn't English; she even knew it was German. She shouldn't have been able to make out the lyrics, but she did, as if for every word sung, the corresponding picture popped in her mind. It was... Powerful. Strange. Distressing. The fact that this sudden ability probably meant a latent connection to the TARDIS made her want to cry some more, but she didn't have any tear left. The need to hit something took over. She gasped in Jack's arms, torn between the desire to sublimate her pain into violence and the inability of her neglected body to comply.

The song didn't wait for her decision; it continued to play, filling her mind with a churning mixture of loss and hope.

Alles was du siehst / Everything that you see

Dir keine Kraft mehr gibt / Doesn't give you strength anymore

Denn die Spuren wurden Gräben / For the roads have turned to ditches

Rose wanted to throw up.

"Make it stop, Jack, make it stop, please!"

And there was strength in those words; the force of the rose in the heart of the storm. Jack caressed the white cheek of the painfully thin young woman and showed her his wrist.

"You will live, Rose Tyler."

**OoO**

Jack's teleport didn't always work properly **—** when it worked at all. As Rose landed on snow-covered grass, she felt lucky to be in one piece.

Whenever and whoever she was.

The rush of energy generated by the time device shove her to her knees. She laid her brow on the immaculate ground and took a deep breath. One. Two. Three. Alive. One. Two. Three. Did she really want that? To be alive?

She shook the thought loose. Where was the Doctor?

"I will send you back two months ago, Rose. You do what you want once there."

You live.

Rose looked at her fingers. Skinny. The cold of winter flew underneath her summer clothes, overwhelming her undernourished body. Greatly shaken, both by the return in time and the anticipation of seeing him **—** him! **—** again, she brought her hands to her heaving chest and squinted through the storm.

Powell Estate. She had landed exactly where the Doctor parked the TARDIS during her family visits! She looked harder, more willing to see the world than ever before.

White snowflakes swirling in the icy air. Tall and grey outlines of apartment buildings. A solid black sky, a carpet of solid water, turning to tears under her bruised knees, and right in front of her, in a line so direct no mathematician could have done better, she saw a man.

It was him. Rose's heart bounced against her ribcages in double summersaults as she took in the details burning on her retina: tall, square shoulders, short hair, leather coat...

Short hair, leather coat? Her first doctor. Not two months, then. As if it mattered! She braced herself on the nearest wall to stand up and surprised herself by praying.

Praying that she wouldn't spontaneously combust of joy.

Praying that, on this new timeline, the Doctor had already met her.

Praying that she could do the right thing, this time **—** for why would he had left her after the battle if not because she was inadequate? Human and fallible?

"Rose?" Oh, that beloved voice.

How long had it been for him? To her human heart, it felt like another life entirely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is called 'Alles Was Bleibt' and is performed by Solitary Experiments, one of my favorite groups.


	2. Poison in My Heart

_You need a doctor_ , he had said on Satellite 5 before saving her from the power of the Time vortex. There were also his first words on this winter night.

"You need a doctor, Rose. What happened to you?"

Thankfully, the concern in his voice wasn't cut with disbelief. He lifted her in his arms and brought her back to the TARDIS.

Brought her back to life.

**OoO**

It had been three weeks since her reunion with the Doctor. Three weeks of mixed bliss.

Avoiding her other self had been easy enough: Rose just didn't visit her mom anymore. Too worried by her slim frame to argue, the Doctor hadn't even suggested it, and if he thought Jackie couldn't take care of her daughter properly, that worked for Rose. The Doctor could doubt anyone he liked, as long as she wasn't included in that list.

Eating had been a challenge. Her shrunk stomach had gotten used to digest atoms, and now the Doctor insisted of making her breakfast, lunch,  _and_ dinner—she hadn't known he could cook so well, and so enthusiastically. He forced her to eat at least the third of every meal, which he measured with frightening accuracy. And still she was sick most days.

She would have liked to believe food was the sole responsible, but she knew better: she was nervous. Awake or sleeping, she dreaded that the Doctor would find out she wasn't  _that_ Rose, and worse yet, that she had tempered with her own timeline to get back to him when his future self obviously didn't want her anymore. Those thoughtful, concerned glances he gave her sometimes... So she emptied her stomach in the intimacy of her en suite and kept silent.

Jack's teleport had sent her back after the trip to Raxacoricofallapatorius to return Margaret the Slitheen in the form of an egg. Even better: the time device had inserted her in a timeline when her younger self was home with Jackie.

But Jack was here—Jack who had unlocked the foreboding words from her twisted insides, Jack who had known that she wanted to end it all.

This other Jack was here for her too. Rose never told him what happened to her, how she had passively allowed timelines to mix in order to find the Doctor, but Jack seemed to understand on some level; it was as if he sensed the aura of change pulsing around her and wanted to do his utmost to help her quest along. His sudden disappearance for 'an errant' two days ago made her sad, but it did leave the Doctor and her alone.

Smiling wasn't a challenge, even in her weakened state. She was practically soaring with the happiness of seeing the Doctor again. His mere presence did wonders to her broken heart. Every passing day, it pained a bit less, as if its shards on a timeline could mend themselves on another one.

But then, the Doctor could fix everything.

"I wish you would tell me what happened, Rose."

Rose stilled, fork in midair. She glared at the scrambled eggs ready to fall as if they deserved her wrath—which they did—, as if the man she loved wasn't sitting across the table from her, all for her eyes to see and feast.

"I've been sick," she answered with a blank face.

The Doctor didn't look any more convinced; he ran a hand through his short hair, in a gesture that reminded Rose of his future incarnation.

A shiver of dread shot down her spine. Could the Doctor feel his future self on a subconscious level?

Future alternate self?

What if now they didn't go back to Satellite 5 because of her presence here, what if he didn't regenerate because of it? That she wouldn't mind in the slightest, but what about the Darleks then? Would they still destroy the world in this timeline, in the far, far future, without her swallowing the Time vortex? She laid back her fork on the table, not hungry anymore.

"You still have one eight of your meal to eat, Rose."

**OoO**

There were days when she mourned this other Rose who must believed the Doctor had abandoned her. On another hand, she was just so  _happy_ to be reunited with him that she didn't spend that much time brooding. It was her, but it wasn't her, was it?

Intent on avoiding any tear in the frame of Time, Rose made sure the Doctor and she traveled to planets they hadn't visited in the time slot between their visit of the modern Earth and the Game Station. She still didn't know what to do about this last part.

No, that wasn't true—she knew she had to tell him. But she was so happy to be with him, now, in the future of an unforeseen pat, that she couldn't bring herself to confess. Yet. That much joy, however, coexisted with a dread so fierce it haunted her unrelentingly.

He would leave her again.

But not if she could help it. The Doctor needed a companion. It wasn't about her, because her life meant nothing on the grand scale of the universes—it was all about him. Alone in his TARDIS, he would grow mad, she knew it even better since her own dark contemplations. So here she was. She did everything she could to make him feel whole and wanted, and as she had expected, his happiness nourished hers.

"We're almost there," the Doctor said in her ear.

Rose shivered, and it wasn't only the cold; when they had stepped out of the TARDIS on that alien blue planet, the bite of the winter wind had made Rose regret she hadn't brought a coat along, but the Doctor had immediately rectified the situation by covering her thin shoulders with his leather jacket.

"That ought to keep you warm."

For the nth time that night, Rose breathed in the perfume kept by the leather. Male. Spices. Time Lord. Love blossomed anew in her heart, spreading to her extremities with a rush of heat. When the Doctor looked at her, she grinned, and he grinned back.

The club they entered was called the  _Mad Oath_. The first thing Rose noticed was the light: brilliant, aggressive, almost overwhelming. When she gave the Doctor back his jacket—very reluctantly in spite of the warmth—, she thought she saw her hands glowing.

"So, Rose… ready?"

She nodded at him and tucked her hands in her pockets. She felt relatively good, even a bit hungry. The Doctor pointed in the direction of the bar.

"I let this area in your good care?"

"No prob'." The Doctor laid a hand on her shoulder. In her hopeful mind, it felt more like a caress than a comforting pat.

"You gonna be allright?"

"Of course!" she scoffed. "Get all those people talking, I will do my part." And she winked at him.

The Doctor squeezed her shoulder and turned on his heels, crossing the dance floor to the nearest group of black-skinned aliens. Rose followed in his steps, slowly. Her eyes scanned the bar's area for potential kids' kidnappers.

It felt good to help others again. She was convinced that this life with the Doctor, this life of running and saving the world, was right. She couldn't imagine another way to spend the rest of her days, and the dark month before her return had proved it.

That might have to do with the fact she was utterly, unconditionally in love the Doctor, too. She tried to move past this thought. As if on cue, another song started, a slow, deep, and meaningful one.

Like it had happened at  _Back Volt_  on Earth, Rose understood the lyrics. This time, she had the actual TARDIS mental connection to justify the ability, but it didn't change anything, didn't make it less painful. The power of words…

Je n'ai plus de nouvelles de toi / I haven't heard from you

J'me sens tomber / I feel like I'm falling

The Doctor was busy talking to a purple alien with tall silver spikes at the other end of the club. He was gesticulating with gusto, glancing now and then behind him to keep an eye on her.

This care made her want to smile and cry at the same time. Rose forced herself to rise a thumb and approached the bar, where she struck a conversation with the barman, a green skinned humanoid with four arms, two of which apparently traveled all over his body—or was it hers? The voice didn't give Rose any indication. She tried for nonchalance and asked a couple of questions, but in spite of her best efforts, the song's lyrics crept back to the forefront of her mind.

The barman observed her with a curious frown. Rose refused to let despair claim her back and concentrated on their conversation. Those children. The Doctor had to find back those missing children. Unfortunately, her motivation didn't keep the words from filling her ears.

J'en veux encore de ton poison / I want some more of your poison

D'Amour au fond des veines / Of love deep in my veins

A sick feeling invaded her stomach. She had to move, now. She forced a last question past her trembling lips, thought she understood the answer, then rushed to the dance floor and did the only thing she could possibly do while her mind seemed to break in quantum pieces.

Dance.

She could hardly breathe now. Had she benefited from a respiratory by-pass system like the Doctor, no doubt it would have burn out by now. Her vision filled with black spots, she swayed, but still she danced, not breathing, not thinking, only another note of a mournful melody. The words guided her as she circled her hips and moved her arms. She was falling. Her head hurt. Tears formed at the corner of her eyes.

Just as her knees were going to buckle, two strong arms supported her from behind. She felt a solid torso pressed against her back. The smell of leather, comforting because of its unmistakable origin, began to soothe her chaotic insides.

The Doctor.

"Rose?"

His voice sounded rougher than usual. As she felt his hands settle on her sides, she couldn't help it: she brought up her hips, slowly, reverently, in time with the end of the song.

Fingers dug into her shirt. When Rose circled her hips a second time, they convulsed.

"Rose, Rose…"

She saw her fluttering hands from the corner of her eye.

They were glowing, white and shiny. She felt a powerful tug in her chest, everywhere at once, as if all of her organs had decided to rearrange themselves at the same time. Gravity was nagging her, as was the blackness of oblivion.

Was she going to die? The thought didn't frighten her, but she worried about the Doctor. She always worried about him, after all.

He spun her around. With a hand still buried in her side, a firm, strong hand, shook by the lightest of tremors, he cupped her flushed cheek and peered deep into her eyes.

"I need to tell you something," she blurted.

She felt warm, so warm…

Before she could recover her balance, the Doctor let out a low growl and pulled her away from the dance floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is called 'J'en veux encore' / 'I want more' and is performed by Mario Pelchat (a singer from my homeland!)


	3. Supernova

He shoved her against the wall.

Rose braced herself for the impact, forbidding herself to black out if her head got hit too hard, but she needn't have worried: the Doctor, for all his rare violence **—** and passion **—** in this incarnation would never loose control to the point of hurting her.

Or could he, even unwillingly? Rose felt pain shot down her arms as his fingers dug in her shoulders. His scorching eyes searched her wet ones.

"What are  _you_  doing here?"

Rose's breath hitched. He knew, even though…

Of course he knew. But still, she had to ask.

"How do you-"

"Look at you!" he shouted.

The three words, full of wrath, shook her more intensely than the hands on her arms. She lowered her chin and did as he asked.

She was glowing. What she had noticed on the dance floor hadn't been a trick of the disco ball or the black light; she was really, literally, glowing from the inside, as if someone had injected jellyfish DNA in her bloodstream.

Except she recognized this particular shade of light. Gold. Tendrils of time. It reminded her of that one occasion she had looked into the heart of the TARDIS, back on another timeline in a future she had changed to dust. The pain building between her temples was similar enough. She gasped. The Doctor's warm hands steadied her against the cold wall. Those tendrils of time… They didn't whisper of formidable powers to bring a con man back to life forever, nor did they promise to force apart the atoms of the Darleks' Emperor. Not yet.

"Rose, Rose!" The Doctor shook her again, concern now etched on every plane of that face she loved so much. Was he talking to her? In the midst of panic and dismay, something occurred to her, something really important.

He had called Rose. And he knew she wasn't  _that_  Rose. She opened her mouth to answer him, to tell him everything, but he cut her off.

"How could I have been so stupid!" he roared over the music, his face so near hers she could feel the heat of his fury mingled with despair. "You being so thin, so silent, all of a sudden…" He cupped her chin, breathing coming in fast pants in spite of his respiratory bypass system. "Don't you know what could happen?"

"I'm sorry," Rose blurted back, completely honest. She had known before how wrong her return could be, but to have the Doctor confirm it planted the decisive shard of guilt in her newly bleeding heart.

"Why did you come back?"

"Why did you leave me?!" With a strength borrowed to fury, she shoved his hands aside, and he let her. "In the future, you leave all of a sudden without saying goodbye, and you expect me to go on with my life as if nothing happened, as if you didn't show me the wonders of the universe and, and-"

The Doctor's look of shock was not something she could treasure right now. Her voice turned to a scream.

"Oi, I didn't want to  _fuck_  the timelines! I would have killed myself but-"

"What?"

For the second time in less than five minutes, the Doctor had her pinned against the wall. It didn't feel so cold anymore.

"I didn't want to put the universe into danger," Rose insisted, not at all intimidated by the Time Lord towering over her, all crackling and sizzling emotions. "I really didn't. It's all my fault, I'm sorry…" She could help the words that came out next. "I missed you so much. After you left…"

The doctor looked at her with a simmering knowledge—like if again, he had some connection to his future self on the other timeline. As if he knew what had happened, happened now, and would happen next. Or not.

"You starved yourself," he said softly, and in spite of the music, Rose heard him clearly. She let out a half-hearted laugh.

"No, that's only because I wasn't hungry." Before he could go back to the main subject at hand—rendered unavoidable by the golden sparkles swimming underneath her skin—, she asked the question that had turned her into a living corpse.

"Why would you leave me, Doctor? What did I do… what do I do wrong?"

The understanding crossing his face was immediately replaced by sorrow.

"Oh, Rose, how could you believe one instant that-"

"But you left!"

Her fingers found his left wrist and wrapped around them. She wasn't sure if she was holding herself back, steadying herself or just passing along some of her passion. "You didn't say anything and just left after the battle at-

The finger on her lips silenced her.

"Don't tell me what happens in that future where you come from. Don't. Tell. Me. A. Word."

"But you need to know about the Darleks!" Rose exclaimed, thinking about the Game Station, the Emperor of the Darleks and Bad Wolf. "You need to-"

"I need you, Rose Tyler."

And then he kissed her.

**OoO**

Rose had often imagined how their first kiss would be. She hadn't lacked imagination on that point: would it be soft and sensual, a bit shy and careful, or downright lusty, so wet and hard with desire she would drown in it, willingly and completely? She couldn't imagine a better fate.

That kiss was a marriage of emotion ever felt, human and otherwise. His lips crashed on her full of desire, curled up in a snarl of wrath, and then closed around her lower lip to suck, all impatience and predatory joy. Time Lord. He stroke the seams of her mouth with the tip of his tongue in a shy dance, the care discernable in the way he forced his lips to be gentler. All the strength he had, the power he held over her body over time and Time, she could feel it in those lips eating her out, and she moaned.

_I need you._

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and kissed him back with all she was worth, for she was, apparently, worth something. She would show him how much he meant to her. Her love. It had to be so shiny…

The way the Doctor's hands closed around her hips made her gasp. She didn't even register the wall in her back. How could she have, when the one she loved kissed her with such abandon? In an amazing wave of dazzling consciousness, she could feel how much he wanted her. He wasn't hard yet, against her throbbing core, she didn't know if he would, could be, ever, and it didn't matter one quark.

The Doctor broke the kiss.

"Rose."

He brought his hands to her face. Whatever he saw in her eyes turned the dark lust in his into distraught glimmers.

"You have to go back, Rose. You will die here!"

"What?"

She had never seen him with that pained an expression before.

"This universe can't accept the presence of two Rose Tyler! Don't you understand what could happen if you stay?"

"She and I will die," she answered calmly.

She almost added that it didn't matter, but then it occurred to her that this other Rose was a separate being. Damn it, but she couldn't make that decision for her other self.

The heat in her was becoming unbearable.

"You know, Doctor, I…"

And suddenly, it all made sense in her spiraling mind.

The _Back Volt_ bar on Earth. The _Mad Oath_ club on this planet.

 _Bad Wolf_. She had guided herself to this precise moment, to the fork between roads where the only choices offered to her golden-shot eyes were variations of death.

She could deal with that. She knew death. In a parallel universe in a future that existed no more, she had killed beings and forced others back to life.

"Doctor…" The words felt solid in her heaving chest. So much pain beyond the Doctor's eyes… "I love you."

"Rose."

They were so near now, and still so far away.

"Rose, listen to me," the Doctor said in an urgent tone, and the wonder and pain were unmistakable in his torn features. "I don't know what happened then, but there is one thing you should know: I would never leave you willingly. Never. Do you understand that?" With his thumb, he brushed her cheek, gently, affectionately, lovingly—Rose forgot how to breathe—, wiping away the tears she had unknowingly shed.

"You will die if you stay, Rose. Please," he whispered, "I don't want you to go but please, Rose, please…"

She knew the Doctor was not a man to beg. With a resolve as strong as an iron bar up her spine, she straightened her back and took the Doctor's face, that beautiful face that haunted her dreams, between her golden-gloved hands. Those short dark hairs at her fingertips, those ears ready to fly, and those eyes filled with new born stars and supernovae… She could see in them the golden hue of her own eyes. The double drumming against her own frantic heart acted as an electric choc.

Time called her.

No, not merely time. The TARDIS. She was signing to her.

The light always shines

When I travel around

"We have to go, Rose!"

"Yes." Her voice sounded like Bad Wolf's.

My mind like a ship

Through memories flies

"Rose!"

The Doctor was running behind her. She didn't feel the cold, only the hot hand of the Time vortex guiding her forwards.

Towards the TARDIS.

Where are you now?

Lost inside your alien soul

Searching for

The supernovae and the stars

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song used in this chapter is called 'Supernova' and performed by Syrian. I've listened to it for a while, but it's only recently that its meaning clicked into place.


	4. The Long Awaited Dance

The TARDIS's door swang open. Rose rushed to the galley without turning back—she didn't have time now for marveling at the Doctor's ability to acquire memories from the future, like snapping his fingers to open the TARDIS's door.

 _Run_. The pain in her burning lungs didn't tamper the exhilaration to run, again, for her life.

To obey that voice that shouted now.

"Rose!"

She knew what to do, and the future told her to: she splayed her hands on the console and called to the TARDIS with all her might.

"I am yours," she said to the pulsing heart of timeless time and spaceless space, staring at the golden tendrils hovering between her bones and skin. "If you want me to stay, I will, but if you want me back, please, please end it all."

"Rose, what are you doing?!"

The smell of leather hit her nostrils. She felt the Doctor's arms circling her from behind in an attempt to stop her.

"Step back, Doctor," she whispered, knowing his keen hearing would pick up every word and some more. "It might be dangerous."

"Of course it is!"

As the Doctor spun her around for the second time that night, the heart of the TARDIS surged forwards from the blue box's depths and surrounded Rose.

There had been no need to use a truck this time. It was only her and the TARDIS, and between them, supporting the whole of time and space with his two hearts, the last of the Time Lord. He cupped Rose's face in his rough hands and searched her eyes. They were already the color of power, glowing with knowledge.

"Oh…"

Rose felt a third hand caressing her, the Time vortex. But what made her gasp were the tanned hands of the man she loved, traveling up and down her arms, creating goose-bumps in their wake.

"Rose…"

The Doctor's features were twisted in sorrow and dismay. He was pleading her. Rose was glowing so much she shed light around his face, like an aura, highlighting his strong jaw, his short air, his sweet ears and kissable lips.

"Don't you worry, Doctor," she sang in Bad Wolf's voice. "It's the second time I see you as myself."

Somehow, the Doctor seemed to understand. He sank his fingers in her shoulders and shook her once, twice, as if he could dislodge the incredible heat of omnipotence by mere physical strenght.

"I'm going to set everything right again. See."

The Doctor's mouth was hanging open.

"Do you see?"

Before the Doctor could say a word, the TARDIS jumped into the vortex.

She had defeater the Emperor of the Darleks. Again. The events leading to that moment had changed, but she had so much power she could still decide of the ending, and the ending meant a safe fate for the universe and a Doctor who needn't die.

They were back in the TARDIS now. The pain Rose had experienced on her first time as Bad Wolf was still there, brushing the inner recesses of her heated skin, but it was bearable. More than that, actually—it was amazing. It made her feel alive, more than any cutting with a blade could ever do.

With a grace unknown to humans, she circled the console and began to pull levers and press buttons. Now was the time to straighten up the conflict at Canary Wharf, and to get the answer she never had.

 _Why did you leave me?_  A golden tear trailed down her cheek.

"Rose."

The Doctor had tried to coax her to let go of the vortex for the past fifteen minutes—the time it had taken her to go to Satellite 5 and accomplish what her alternate self as Bad Wolf had done. She didn't bother looking at him. She wanted to, being Bad Wolf didn't change that, but she was afraid that one glance too much would distract her from her objective.

Saving the world. Saving the Doctor. Saving herself.

"My Rose."

 _That_ stopped her. She let go of the console, took a deep breath and turned around.

Only to find herself sitting on the very commands she had been manipulating.

"I see you."

The look in the Doctor's eyes… There was so much  _lust_ in them her own desire for him, kept secret for so long, surged between her thighs.

That didn't go unnoticed either. The Doctor's nostrils flared, and his jaw tensed. He was still holding her gaze, but she could feel how aware he was of her reaction to him. She would have felt ashamed if there hadn't been wonder in his eyes, those beautiful eyes, interspersing with that lust.

Weren't they on their way to Canary Wharf?

"Oh, you are not moving from here, Rose."

That thick voice, its accent at its tickest. The Doctor was pressed flush against her, in a show of possession and dominance he had never played with her before. The sharp planes of his muscled thighs were at her fingertips, at stroking distance. Bad Wolf, gifted with the control of space to its twenty-six dimensions and time to nanoseconds, forwards and backwards, hesitated.

And then she dared. The lightest brush of nails against the fabric of his pants. The Doctor's response went beyond her wildest dreams.

He bent down to kiss her.

He waited for her to close the final gap between them, but it was him who led the dance of their lips, he who licked the seam of her mouth and captured her tongue, he who dove into her mouth and welcomed her into his. He tasted like time and space of another shade, of sorrow and hope, and oh, of a love so bright it almost overshadowed the Time vortex. She grabbed the laps of his leather jacket and opened her mouth wider, further, offering him her everything. She wanted him to kiss and lick and bite and  _mark_ her. She wanted to be his, with no way back.

But shouldn't they be on their way to Canary Wharf?

The hand fisting into her long hair unhinged the thought and sent grammar and syntax spiraling down into oblivion. With only a kiss—albeit a very thorough one—the Doctor proved he could change the mind of time and space.

Could he do more?

The question hadn't left her mind that the Doctor was planting open-mouthed kisses down her neck. She trembled in his arms as his hands reached the underside of her breasts.

"Rose, if only you knew how much I love you…"

A second tear joined the first. Rose felt the pain increase and stifled a scream. Time was not ripe. She had to go to Canary Wharf first…

The Doctor going on his knees offered a powerful distraction.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to."

So she got rid of her pants. When she made a move to take off her knickers as well, the Doctor stopped her hand. His heavy-hooded eyes spoke of ecstatic endeavors.

"I want to do it myself," he purred.

In one jerky and strong motion, he grabbed her ass and pulled her to him. Rose cried out, half in pain and half in surprise.

There was only impatience when he moved the knickers aside and caressed her folds with a knuckle. A pained growl built in his throat.

"So beautiful, Rose. You are…"

He leaned forwards and kissed the inside of one tight, then the other, before hovering over her core.

"… mouth-watering," he breathed heavily. "And all mine."

"Yes!"

It was Bad Wolf who saw her timelines collide as his mouth closed over her, but Rose Tyler who gasped in pleasure.

"So good."

The Doctor knew what he was doing. Alterning between long and sensuous swirls and quick licks of his tongues, harmonizing kissing and sucking, he draw her every mound and hollow, intent on painting her most intimate parts with a cartographer's precision.

And he wasn't gentle or careful. He wasn't eating her—he was feasting on her, faster and harder by the second, as a man in the desert during a drought in the summer. He was drinking her up, filling his mouth and nose with her scent, reveling in the variation of her cries, rejoincing as her flavor took over his papillae. Those moans he elicited from her…

In no time at all, Rose's legs were shaking so hard he had to steady her with both hands.

"You taste so good, my Rose."

It was a predatory groan. A mating reverence. Rose arched her back and dug her hands in his short hair. She would fall, she would fall and shatter…

The universe would fall and shatter if they didn't go to Canary Wharf this instant.

"Did I say you could move?"

The Doctor had jumped to his feet. She must have struggled, but she couldn't remember why, because half of the Doctor's face was glistening with her juices. She realized she was panting. Without thinking twice, she reached for his pants. She wanted him so much it was physically painful.

She stilled. Shouldn't he be hard by now?

"You don't want me," she said in a small voice. Bad Wolf screamed in her, and she bit back a cry of pain. It was as if her skin was stretching in a foreign way, and burning at the same time.

The Doctor cupped her chin and met her eyes. They seemed golden, too.

"Oh," he purred, "you don't have any idea how much I want you, and for how long I've yearned for that moment." He discarded his leather jacket and took her hand to his front, where she had no choice but to feel how hard he had suddenly become. "Timelord superior physiology. Better control, remember?"

He kissed her for a long time, his respect and love for her mingled with a lust so long held back she felt it diffuse in her veins. She arched against him and fumbled with his pants. He got rid of them in two jerks.

"Please, my Rose, please…"

She was too far gone to think of the second meaning of his words—of his earlier plea, and her earlier preoccupation.

When he entered her, she felt whole for the first time in her life.

"Yes!" A double scream of joy, Bad Wolf's and Rose'.

**OoO**

In the end, it was the Doctor who felt bad at leaving the other Rose behind.

"You said yourself we will both die if I stay at this time, in this timeline," Rose said in a tight but controlled voice. "And you know, even though I have been in love with you from the very first time we ran, this Rose… She doesn't think it yet."

She was still sitting on the console, naked except for the leather jacket on her shoulders. Bad Wolf was gone now, unified with the TARDIS's heart once again. They hadn't gone to Canary Wharf, and if she couldn't feel anymore if it was right or wrong, the Doctor had assured her she had nothing to worry about.

Rose couldn't find it in her to chastise the Doctor for tricking her; she would have died otherwise. And now she cared, especially since he had introduced her to his bedroom—a bedroom he would finally sleep in, he had promised.

"I will still mourn her," the Doctor said softly as he came to her side and planted a kiss on her head. "I will still mourn her for I couldn't have done it in her future."

Rose stilled. Had she read correctly between the lines?

"What do you mean, 'you couldn't'? Can you… Did you connect with that other you? Did you… tell yourself?"

The Doctor paled. Obviously, he hadn't wanted her to pick up on the double meaning of his words.

Or the triple one.

"Yes," he admitted, pulling her into his arms. "I've been looking for me, for him really, and… You know, when you asked me why I left you?"

Rose's heartbeat accelerated. She folded herself tighter into his embrace, until she could feel his hearts beating in her ears, as strong and familiar as her own. She had missed it in a way she couldn't even begin to explain.

"Yes?" she asked softly. "Why did you… he leave me?"

"Because I died. Would have died."

Rose had barely the time to assimilate the words and their so, so important meaning, that the Doctor spoke again.

"In this new future, however,  _you_ die. The other you."

"But not I." Then she thought about it. "How?"

"A car accident. The sun blinded you."

Somehow, those words echoed deep into Rose's heart. She felt tears streaming down her cheeks. The sun… Golden tendrils of time and space, so much, too much power… She felt the Doctor's tears trailing beside hers.

"I'm so happy I found you again, my Doctor."

"Never as much as I, Rose. My beautiful, fantastic, Rose…"

When she looked up at him, she thought she saw a golden hue in the depths of his eyes. Then it was gone and the Doctor was kissing her again, making love to her with mouth, hands, eyes, and fingers.

Everything had changed, yes. But for the best.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a sorrowful ride. I hope you enjoyed it, as much for the angst as for the love they finally share :)


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